No Sense
by OKaRaMa
Summary: Better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. Better to think someone dead, than to find out the truth. Before Jessica's death tore him apart, someone else had weakened the fabric. Sam/OMC Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Prepare yourself for short chapters! This is, like most of my stories, just an idea that I had to put down. It may not ever be completed, so if you feel like you want to take the idea and run, let me know!

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><p>"I don't get this at all," Alex whined pitifully. He heard Sam snort and glanced up to see his smirk. It was a sexy smirk, but still at his expense. "Do <em>you<em> understand it?" He shoved the book across the table, and Sam glanced at the page.

"Number one is sixty-five. Number two is thirty-three. Number three is-"

"I get it, I get it! Sorry that not all of us are geniuses." Alex rolled his eyes, and got a genuine smile from his friend.

"Here, let me see if I can help you." Sam pointed to the example formulas, and Alex settled down to listen. He hated math of all kinds, but he wasn't terrible at it. He couldn't help but smile a little as he watched Sam's expressions. The warm rise and fall of his voice was entrancing, and Alex didn't think he'd ever be as happy as he was with Sam. Sam noticed him staring, so Alex just gave him a big, cheesy grin. Sam sighed and closed the book. "You're not paying attention."

"Of course I am!"

"To the _math_," Sam specified. "Really, Alex, I'm not going to try teaching you if you're not going to try learning." Alex pouted and opened the book again. He glanced at the page, wrote the answers in his notebook, and shoved all of it into his bag. Sam's eyes went wide.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I know you love libraries, but I'm tired of being inside."

"I still have work to do you know."

"Then do it outside. It's such a nice day, it would be a shame to waste it!"

"It's California, Alex. Every day is nice." Alex stood up and ruffled Sam's hair on his way to the door. Sam hurried to pack up his things anyway.

Alex was waiting for him on a bench just outside the front door. He had his eyes closed and face up to the sky. The tiny smile on his face was all Sam needed to know that the man was content. He sat next to his friend and copied the pose. After a lifetime of running around in small northern towns, working mostly at night, he definitely appreciated the California sun. He couldn't help but look over at Alex again. His skin was tanned slightly darker than Sam's, and was perfectly smooth and flawless. He only had one scar, barely discernable, that only Sam had seen. Sam always felt so imperfect, with all his scars, but Alex always made him forget about it. He never asked about any of Sam's scars, either. Not the knife cuts, monster scratches, or bullet wounds… Alex must have felt him staring, because he met his gaze with a curious smile.

"You're beautiful," Sam blurted. Both of them blushed, and Sam laughed awkwardly.

"That's unusual," Alex chuckled and leaned just a little closer, so their shoulders touched. "You usually save that kind of talk for the bedroom."

"Shut up," Sam ducked his head in embarrassment, but couldn't keep the grin off his face. Alex used a lock of inky black hair to tickle Sam's neck. It was enough to make him twitch, and Alex leaned even closer. Sam could feel the other man's breath on his ear and shivered. The whole world around them dissolved as Alex whispered.

"I love you, Sam." Sam's breath caught. He didn't know what to say. "I love you, too," just seemed too… simple.

Alex stood up, and the moment popped like a bubble. He grinned down at Sam, a pink flush across his cheeks. "Let's get going. I'm starving!"

Sam woke up slowly. His eyes were fuzzy, and he _really_ wanted to brush his teeth. There was a slight ache in his head; a friend of the vodka Dean had compelled him to drink. He sat up and stretched widely.

"Have a good dream, for once?" Dean asked from the table.

"What makes you say that?" Sam left the bed and headed for the bathroom.

"The smile on your face." Sam felt his lips twitch.

"Yeah… it was a dream I haven't had for a while." When he exited the bathroom, Dean was immensely curious. Sam tried to get him to shut up, but Dean's curiosity was driving him crazy. "It was about California!" Sam told him, aggravated. Dean shut up immediately. "From before I met Jessica. I was kind of… with someone else. It was just a memory from then."

"Oh…" Dean went quiet for a moment. "Did she break up with you?"

"No, actually," Sam felt a familiar ache as he thought about it. "Alex just… disappeared, one day." Dean sat up in his chair with a frown.

"Our kind of disappearance?" Sam shrugged and sat on his bed.

"I looked for any kind of sign, but didn't find anything. The next day, Alex's stuff was all gone, so everyone thought…" remembering that day hurt almost as bad as remembering Jessica's death.

"Thought she just ran away?" Dean was sympathetic.

"That doesn't make sense, though." Sam frowned. He hadn't thought about it in a long time, but he still felt the same. "The last time we were together, Alex said…" he avoided looking at Dean's sympathetic eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me about Alex before?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam shrugged and blushed.

"I haven't told you about _everyone_ I've slept with, Dean. Do I need to keep a journal of them for you?"

"I'm just saying, it sounds like you were really attached to-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, dude. Drop it." Dean obviously didn't want to, but did.


	2. Chapter 2

SIX MONTHS LATER

"These are, like, seriously classic deaths!" Dean was _way_ too excited about their newest case. Sam was fine with it, though, because it was keeping his mind off Dick. Roman, that is. "The heart, ripped from the chest, and without any weapons! It's gotta be some sort of werewolf, right?"

"Werewolves usually leave marks on the body. They open it up, they don't just reach in. Whoever pulled the hearts out went in _under_ the ribs. None of them were broken," Sam reminded him.

"What else steals hearts, then? Without damaging the body?" They got to the latest victim's apartment and started looking around. Other than the blood the victim lost after the fact, not a thing was out of place. "This guy was a neat freak, wasn't he?" Dean deadpanned. "You find anything?" Sam was about to respond with a negative, but something caught his eye.

"The victim was a red-head, right?" He held up a long, wavy, black strand of hair. "And his girlfriend was blonde?"

"That's right. Think he was cheating?" Sam shrugged and put the hair away as possible evidence.

"It was over here, by the window. I didn't see any in the… bedroom… Dean, come here." He felt Dean approach behind him, and pointed to the windowsill. "Look at these scratches. This is why there was no forced entry." Dean's expression darkened.

"Whoever it was, they opened the latch with something long and sharp," he surmised. "Like we do. These don't look like knife marks, though." He looked at the ones on the edge of the wood.

"Claws."

At the other victims' houses and apartments, they found the same thing. The Winchesters suspected that, if they wanted to check out the other cities that had been attacked, they'd find similar clues. Scratches on a windowsill or doorframe, and one single strand of ink-black hair.

"So, the victims are all men in their sixties. Some were healthy, some were not. Some were married, some were not. They're from various cities in various states… I'm trying to find something to connect them, other than their age."

"Well, I guess we can narrow our potential freak-of-the-week to being a black-haired female, but that's about it for our monster," Dean mumbled as he flipped through a book.

"Not necessarily," Sam sighed, remembering his first year of college.

_Are you ever going to cut it?_

_Why, don't you like it? It makes me feel pretty._

_And witty, and gay?_

_Like you're one to talk, Shaggy!_

Sam couldn't help the smile forming on his face. "There are guys that keep their hair long. Some cultures even believe that, to cut someone's hair, is to cut off their power, or life force."

"Still, I'm not finding anything!" Dean shut the tome with a thud and shoved it away in irritation. "We've got no one to ask, and no idea how long this thing is staying in town."

"At least we have a connection between the victims, now." Sam dropped an obituary page on the table, and Dean lifted his head to look at it. "The last vic was a collector of antique books. In fact, I plan on stopping by before we leave town to… confiscate some of them." Dean sat up to pay attention. "The one before that collected occult objects. He had a few charms and things at his place. He's got a storage locker down town with heavy security. I bet we'll find more there. Before that was the herbalist, the historian, the accountant…"

"Ok…" Dean looked up at him in confusion.

"I did some digging- a _lot_ of digging, and found out that they all worked on this big project about forty years ago. A few of them went on this big expedition to find something. Whatever it was, no one made note of it or published anything about what they were searching for. The ones that didn't go, like the accountant, were working from home, in the background, to make sure everything went smoothly for the team. One guy in Austin was a cop at the time, and he made sure some of their less legal activities weren't found out." Dean's eyes went wide.

"Woah, talk about conspiracy, man! So, how many of these dudes are left?"

"One. Wayne Gregory. I've got his address, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean rang the doorbell, and the brothers stood awkwardly on the porch. "I'll get it, pet, you work on dinner!" a voice called inside. The door opened a moment later, and the Winchesters were greeted by a mid-sixties gentleman that was in surprisingly good shape. "Hello, boys. What can I do for you?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Gregory." Sam and Dean flashed their badges, and Gregory smiled brightly.

"About the murders? You would be hunters, then? I'd heard that you existed, but I've never met any. Come in, come in!" Sam and Dean traded a startled look, but stepped into the house cautiously. "Have a seat, boys. Pet, bring some coffee for our guests," Gregory called to the kitchen. There was no response, but they could hear movement beyond the swinging door. Sam and Dean sat down.

"My name is Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam. We are here about the murders. Do you know what's causing them?"

"Yes, the whole thing is very unfortunate, but quite necessary," Gregory shook his head and sighed. "My colleagues were conspiring against me, and so I had to take matters to hand."

"Wait, so- you're confessing?" Sam was horrified. "What exactly were they going to do to you that would make you rip their hearts out?" Gregory snorted and crossed his arms.

"They were going to take my Pet away. So, I had Pet take care of them." The kitchen door opened then. "Here he is. One of the finest relics I've ever acquired," he told them proudly. Sam's jaw just about dropped off his skull. "Pet" looked up to see them, and dropped the tray in shock. Sam leapt from his chair, and Alex dropped to his knees to collect the shattered mugs.

"Sorry, master, I'll take care of-"

"Alex!" Sam grabbed one of his wrists and lifted him up again. Dark, terrified eyes stared up at him, framed by long, shining, black hair.

"Sam… please…"

"Pet!" Gregory stood, and Alex cowered. "Clean it up immediately. Mr. Winchester, please unhand him!" Sam took a step back, and Alex scooped everything back onto the tray as fast as he could, not caring about hot liquids or shards. "You recognize him? You must have known him before the summons." Gregory and Sam returned to their seats, though Sam was obviously on edge. Dean didn't know what to do or say, so he tried to stay neutral. There would be time for questions, later.

"We went to Stanford together," Sam practically growled. "We were roommates."

"What summons are you talking about?" Dean asked. He tried to sound curious, rather than accusing. Gregory was remaining civil, so Dean needed to stay calm.

"It's what the whole adventure was about," Gregory explained as though it were obvious. "We found the book that told us about this particular brand of goblin. The book said that, if the goblin's previous master is dead, all you have to do to own it, is name it." Sam's eye twitched a little, and Dean was starting to worry.

"You named him _Pet_?" Gregory smirked.

"Well, that's what he is, right? Now, he has to do everything I say. I named him, so he is mine. My colleagues were planning a coup, so I had to take them out of the picture."

"So, when he disappeared, that was you _summoning_ him?" Sam asked.

"Yes. He was very startled, and it took him quite a while to get used to my way of things. He was crying in his sleep and everything," Gregory shook his head and sighed. "The pitiful thing sobbed until I commanded that he be quiet. It was very annoying."

"That's it!" Sam roared and left his chair so fast that it flipped. "Alex was never yours to _own_! He had a _life_, and someone who _loved_ him!"

"Sam, please…" Alex was in the doorway with tears in his eyes. "Please, just go…"

"You should listen to him, Sam," Gregory warned. "He won't be able to stop himself if I tell him to kill you." Sam grit his teeth, and Dean stood up to put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sammy, let's go." Gregory grinned in pure pleasure at Sam's rage.

"Yes, _Sammy_. Now that I've got Pet, I'll have my way. No one will be able to stand up to me!" Gregory chuckled. "Pet…" He turned his glinting eyes to Alex, who was trembling slightly. "Kill them both."

"Master, please…"

"Do it!" Sam and Dean watched as Alex's fingers extended into long claws, fading to black at the tip. His face contorted in a vicious grin that split to show all of his teeth, which grew sharp. He took a step, and the boys noticed that his toes had darkened and sharpened, too.

"Alex… fight it! You don't have to do this!" Sam pleaded. Dean grabbed his arm, but Sam refused to move. Alex was advancing slowly, like he _was_ trying to fight it.

"Sssaaaam…" Alex groaned and thrashed his head, stopping for a minute.

"Rip out their hearts, Pet," Gregory hissed, and Alex started moving again. "We'll add Dean to our collection. I'll let you keep Sam's."

"You sick son of a bitch…" Dean grit his teeth and pointed his gun. "How about we just take him from you, huh?" Gregory laughed, and Alex paused.

"You would have to kill me, Dean, and then give him a _new_ name. My Pet will jump in front of the bullet and kill you before you can do me harm." Gregory grinned meanly. "And I know how hunters are. You'll kill all the monsters in the world before you kill a-" _BANG_!

"His name shall be… _Alejandro_!" Dean announced with a flourish. Sam stared at Dean in shock as Gregory fell to the floor, dead. "That guy was an ass." The brothers looked at Alex, who phased back to normal.


End file.
